


Reconciliation

by Medie



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-27
Updated: 2010-03-27
Packaged: 2017-10-08 08:46:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/74790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He didn't do it," she smiles, "Matthew didn't do it."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reconciliation

**Author's Note:**

> written for [](http://gryphonrhi.livejournal.com/profile)[**gryphonrhi**](http://gryphonrhi.livejournal.com/) for my Birthday Drabble-A-Thon. Sequel to [Irreconcilable Differences](http://archiveofourown.org/works/74716)

-

The tv is on and tuned to CNN when she hears it, "_Baseball phenom Carl Robinson was killed today in a shoot out with police in the city of Seacouver after being sought in a gruesome killing. In recent months, rumors about Robinson's political aspirations have been swirling. All that came to a halt_ –" and stops.

Abby sits heavily on the couch, staring at the screen without hearing a word of the rest. She pushes her hands along her jeans, rubbing palm against denim as she tries to assimilate the report. A shoot-out, not a beheading, the news said a shoot-out.

That means…

"He didn't do it," she smiles, "Matthew didn't do it."

-

They're in the loft, Carl bitching about Mac's choice of travel arrangements "_Coach_!" when Matthew's phone trills in his pocket. He shoots MacLeod a 'better you than me' grin and takes himself and the phone down to the dojo.

"McCormick," he drawls, hitching a hip up the corner of MacLeod's desk.

"You didn't do it," Abby says without preamble.

Matthew drops the letter opener he'd picked up and straightens. "Abigail?"

She's been crying, he can hear it in her voice when she says, "You didn't kill him. The shooting's all over the news."

The shouting upstairs intensifies and he grins. "No, I did not, although I'm fairly certain I may live to regret that." He pauses, searching for a way to explain before saying, "You came with me on this little venture, and I hope you understand my meaning. Every word you said stayed with me and then, I suppose, I was ready to listen to what Duncan had to say."

"Duncan?"

"MacLeod. Friend of Carl's and, as it turns out, Ceirdwyn. Boy gets around for a young upstart," Matthew grumbles good-naturedly, relieved to hear her laugh. "He got a little more uppity than you did about the whole thing but, largely gave me chapter and verse on the matter. He was right and so are you." He sighs. "Promise not to rub it in?"

"That it only took you two hundred years to do the right thing?" Abby echoes. "Wouldn't even think of it." She laughs a little more. "I'm just – Oh Matthew, you have no idea how relieved I am."

"I suspect I do," Matthew's eyes fall on his wedding ring. "Probably about half as relieved as I am. Thought of the price I was willing to pay to kill a man…" He thinks of her face, eyes red from crying, cheeks blotchy, nose running, and still the prettiest thing he's seen in a century. "I'm just going to have to plead temporary insanity and hope nobody notices the part where it lasted two hundred years."

Abby laughs again, the rich sound music to his ears. "I think we can be persuaded. A good holiday somewhere without tan lines would be nice."

"You been talking to Amanda again?"

"Well, of course I am," she says. "If I called Ceirdwyn to yell, she would've come looking for _your_ head over it."

He winces. "Point taken, I can just imagine what she'd have to say about it."

"Hmm, yes, which is why I called Amanda," Abby's voice is too innocent when she says, "She always suggests the best revenge."

"Dear lord in heaven," Matthew drawls. "Did you go and bankrupt me again?"

"Not yet I haven't," Abby murmurs wickedly. "But we're planning on it the next time I'm in Paris."

He chuckles and shakes his head in amusement. "Well, given the kind of ass I've been over this whole matter, it'd serve me right if you two do go and put me in the poorhouse."

"I'm not even sure Amanda could successfully manage to put _you_ in the poorhouse, darling," Abby teases. "I've seen your portfolio, remember?"

"Between introducing you to my friends and showing you that, I've made an awful lot of mistakes where you're concerned, haven't I?" Matthew counters, grinning.

"Hmm, but all the best kind," Abby says. "So, when are you coming home?"

_Home_. He's not ready for the thrill that word sends through him and he closes his eyes in relief. "Oh, I think I'll be home, just as soon as we tuck our boy away somewhere safe and sound." Another shout upstairs draws his eyes to the ceiling and he chuckles. "Or MacLeod snaps and kills him himself, whichever happens to come first."

She laughs. "I love you."

Matthew holds the phone a little tighter as he responds, "My dear, sweet Abigail, you have no idea how much I adore you."

Her smile is nearly visible over the phone. "Are you sure you aren't Irish?"

"Most assuredly not," he sniffs in disdain, "that, my dear, was hardly blarney."

"Mmhmm," she hums noncommittally. "Whatever that happened to be, I loved every word of it."

"How about you and I take a little trip when I get back?" He suggests. "It seems, by my reckoning that I'm highly overdue for a vacation and, lord knows, we could use one." He pauses, considering. "I can think of a few more friends you should meet."

"Would this MacLeod of yours be one of them?" she asks.

"Hmm, maybe not Duncan," Matthew decides. "Perhaps Connor, better stories there." He's not above a little jealousy where his wife's concerned and he's certainly not ashamed to admit it. "Plus, you always did prefer New York. As I hear it, he's supposed to be back there now."

"New York?" she perks up. "The shopping's almost as good as Paris."

He muffles a groan. "You know, if I didn't know you better, I'd almost believe you're serious."

"Perhaps Amanda's cured me of my hatred of shopping," Abby says. "We did spend an awful long time on the phone." She holds out almost a minute before laughing and he can hear the giddiness of relief in every sound. She's going to be dancing around the living room in her sock feet after she hangs up and, damn it all, he's not going to be there to see it. "Just make sure I get to hit a couple bookstores and we're even, McCormick."

"Now that, my dear, I do believe I can do."

When they say their goodbyes, Matthew appropriates Duncan's chair and puts his feet up with a grin.

As the arguing rages overhead, he closes his eyes and whistles a tune. He might even do a little dancing himself.


End file.
